


Clouds for the Skies

by ienablu



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: Drift Bond, Everybody Lives, Father-Daughter Relationship, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Striker Tango
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-10
Updated: 2014-04-10
Packaged: 2018-01-16 20:17:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1360408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/pseuds/ienablu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Operation Pitfall's success, through the publicity events and quiet moments after, Stacker finds Chuck in his vicinity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Clouds for the Skies

**Author's Note:**

> This fic was supposed to be 6k. Although the central relationship is Stacker and Chuck, Stacker doesn't exist in a vacuum, so this is to some degree a story about his relationship with everyone.
> 
> The concept/nickname of the "Pitfall Four" came from [this fabulous artwork](http://harrietvane.tumblr.com/post/80373848939/the-pitfall-four-woodblock-print-theme), not from me. Additional thanks to playpraydie for looking this over.
> 
> Extended author notes can be found [here](http://hayes-district.dreamwidth.org/2601.html).

The sky is a soft blue when Stacker ejects the plexiglass off his escape pod. He spends a few moments rocking on the ocean just staring up at the sky. He hadn't thought he would see it again. There are white whisps of clouds, and Stacker allows himself a moment of sentimentality as he considers it a bright blessed day.

He sits up, shifting around to get comfortable. It doesn’t quite work.

He turns, sees Chuck sitting on his escape pod, a few meters off, a naked relief on his face.

Stacker nods at him, and Chuck nods back. Stacker climbs up, and sits on the body of the escape pod. Still not comfortable, but the escape pods weren't made for comfort.

“So what do we do now?" Chuck asks, an agitated note to his voice. "Just sit here and wait?"

"Have you informed LOCCENT that we've emerged?"

Chuck frowns deeper, shakes his head.

Stacker taps at his comm unit. "LOCCENT, this is Marshal Pentecost. Ranger Hansen and I have successfully surfaced."

There's a heavy sigh and shaky inhale on the other end of the line. Stacker can imagine Herc wiping his hand down his face. "Acknowledged, Marshal. Striker Eureka has successfully detonated—"

Chuck gives a full-body wince, and Stacker feels a staggering wave of sympathy.

"—and taken out Slattern and Scunner. Gipsy is making her way towards the Breach. We'll keep you updated as appropriate, and send choppers to you when prudent." When Mako and Raleigh have emerged from the Breach, he doesn’t say.

"Acknowledged."

There's a moment of silence.

"Now," Stacker announces, with a rueful grin, "we sit and wait."

In the silence, Stacker turns to observe Chuck. Physically, he’s fine. But his gaze is on the ocean, and he looks near tears. It may be the sun’s bright reflection off the surface of the water, but more likely it’s what did not surface with them.

"When Coyote went down…" Stacker starts. He feels a familiar sorrow tighten his throat as he considers how to continue.

"You got roaringly drunk and spent the entire night ranting to my father," Chuck finishes for him.

"It helped." And as Marshal, he's in no position to offer the advice, but as a fellow Ranger, he adds, "I recommend it."

Chuck gives him a rueful half-grin.

They continue to sit and wait.

There's a burst of static celebration, and Tendo’s voice comes through, yelling “Direct hit — the Breach has collapsed." Stacker hears Herc yelling for the choppers, but it's distant and muted over the blood pounding in Stacker's ears. _We did it._

There's a splash fifty meters off, and Stacker turns around to see an escape pod. His heart starts beating harshly in his chest, and after a moment the plexiglass is ejected off, and Mako sits up. Relief floods his system.

She's too far off for them to call to her, and Stacker supposes she wouldn't notice — she's busy standing up, looking the other way, waiting.

The second pod emerges, and instantly Mako is diving and swimming to it.

It's not wise, with the kaiju blue in the area, but co-pilots take priority over safety. 

"I can’t find his pulse," Mako says, shakily. “I don’t think he’s breathing.”

Tendo talks about the sensors possibly not working, they can’t be sure. Mako just pulls Raleigh to her. Then Raleigh rasps and says Mako was squeezing him too tight. Laughing, they fall against each other.

Behind Stacker, Chuck snorts quietly.

"Are you okay?" Tendo asks. "Guys?"

"They are fine, Mr. Choi," Stacker answers.

Mako finally looks up, and waves, before swaying back into Raleigh once more.

Stacker looks back to Chuck. “We all are.”

Quietly over the comm, Herc asks, "You want the honor, Stacker, or shall I?"

Stacker is still gazing towards Chuck, and Stacker can imagine him saying _do it._

"This is Marshal Stacker Pentecost," he says. "Stop the clock."

 

\+ + +

 

The helicopters arrive and hover above them, ladders thrown down.

Stacker goes up a few rungs, then looks down to Chuck, taking far longer, acutely aware of the younger man's shoulder injury.

"How is your arm?" he yells down.

"Fine," Chuck yells back, though he grimaces as he resumes climbing back up.

Stacker gets into the chopper first, and gives a hand to help Chuck into the cabin with him. They shuffle to their seats, Chuck on the left, Stacker on the right, their drive suits clacking as their shoulders keep brushing.

“I didn’t actually think we would all make it back,” Chuck says, quietly.

"Nor I, Mr. Hansen," Stacker admits.

Even quieter, Chuck says, "We did it."

Stacker tips his head back, and huffs a quiet laugh. He feels dizzy, completely overwhelmed with the fact they did it. A bright spot of pride is pulsing through him. It feels like he just took down Wrenchjaw with Tamsin at his left, the bright feeling of being with his friend slaying dragons, or the distant memory of just taking down Radelow with the adrenaline rush that came with the teenage confidence and invincibility and success.

"We did it," Stacker agrees.

They ride back to the Shatterdome in silence.

 

\+ + +

 

As they start their descent, Stacker looks down at the helipad. Aside from the landing site, it’s completely packed, and as they touch down, he can hear their cheering even over the noise of the choppers. The cheer becomes deafening when the choppers power off, and even more so when Stacker follows Chuck out. Stacker can’t help but smile.

Mako and Raleigh are already on the ground, surrounded by techs.

Herc makes his way past them, not even sparing them a glance. He stumbles to a stop just before he reaches Chuck, and wraps his good arm around his son's neck, pulling him in painfully close.

Just behind them, Stacker can see the tears falling down Herc's face, though he can't make out what Herc is saying.

Chuck's body is rigid, but Stacker feels a warmth at the scene. After a few moments, Chuck's arms go around Herc, reaching up to clasp his shoulder blades, in an awkward hug.

Herc is still crying as he looks over Chuck’s shoulder at Stacker. “I wasn’t ready to be Marshal,” he tells Stacker, voice rough.

Stacker nods at him, and claps a hand down on Chuck’s shoulder. They lock gazes as Stacker passes. There was a truth to Herc's words — after Drifting, words aren't always needed. He is proud of Chuck, he doesn’t need to say it. He nods at Chuck, and Chuck nods back.

Instead, Stacker makes his way to Mako and Raleigh. She sees him approaching, and the techs surrounding her part, giving her room to throw herself into his arms. “I am so proud of you,” he tells her. She’s grinning widely and there are tears in her eyes as he pulls back.

Raleigh looks tired, though there is a ghost of a smile on his face. Stacker nods at him. “You two did an admirable job,” he tells them. “Thank you.”

The techs swarm in again, and Stacker finds himself engulfed. Friendly punches to the shoulder, pats on the shoulder, pats on the back, quick hugs, long hugs, an occasional kiss on the cheek.

Stacker loses track of the time it takes to move through the crowd. Halfway through, Chuck appears on his left, a touch red in the face, but with a satisfied smile on his face.

They make it to the doors to the Shatterdome, where the program's lone remaining photographer is waiting. Stacker wraps an arm around Chuck's shoulders and he wraps an arm around Mako's shoulders. He clasps Raleigh's shoulder, where he's on the other side of Mako, and he feels Raleigh's hand on his shoulder, Chuck's arm across his back.

The shutter snaps, and the photographer — back from Stacker's time stationed at the Tokyo Shatterdome — glance down at her screen, and grins. She asks Stacker, "You want to look it over, or can I go make history?"

Stacker waves her off, and turns his attention to the medical officers who had been standing behind her. Chuck was looking forward to the celebrating, Stacker knows, but he also has a feeling that the celebrations will continue for some time. For now, there is protocol. "Where do you need us?"

 

\+ + +

 

Mako and Raleigh are whisked away for decontamination, and he and Chuck are shown their own room.

The medical team looks at their data from the mission — their handshake was remarkably strong and steady for a first-time Drift, and they're showing low levels of ghosting.

The tests go along, and Chuck and Stacker are instructed to sit facing away from each other. Chuck makes a grunting noise and Stacker feels a tingle along his knee; but he knows they check reflexes, and knows that they go for the knee first, and so when he's asked if he feels anything, he knows he only felt it because he knows to have expected it. He says nothing.

A doctor — one of Dr. Lightcap’s contemporaries — fills Stacker in, as the tests are concluded — additional testing will be needed for Raleigh and Mako, for any signs of radiation sickness. She also wants to run a few quick tests on Stacker, though Dr. Lightcap will want him to see her for more thorough testing in Tokyo soon.

Chuck’s free to go, and after a few lingering moments, he does.

 

\+ + +

 

The night, Chuck shows up at Stacker's office. He's swerving, a half-empty bottle of whiskey hanging down from his loose grip, and Stacker guesses that the bottle had been full at some point earlier this evening.

Stacker escorts him to the chair across from Stacker's desk, and gently pries the bottle from his hand.

"You alright, sir?" Chuck slurs.

At first Stacker thinks Chuck is asking if it's alright with Stacker that Chuck is here. Then he realizes Chuck must have been aware for the reason Stacker had to stay behind for more medical testing. He feels touched at Chuck's concern, and he nods. "Preliminary tests are showing that my condition is not worsening."

Chuck nods. "Yeah. 's good. I mean, 'm not really surprised, t'be honest. Your problem's radiation, Striker's Mark-5, she wouldn't've, she..."

Stacker can see the moment the grief hits him.

His face screws up, his shoulders shake, and he raises his fist to his mouth to stifle a sob.

Stacker had hoped Chuck would have had this night with Herc, but given the strains of their relationship, and that Stacker was there at the end, it does make some sense that he is here. He slides the bottle back to Chuck.

Chuck takes a drink, wipes the tears from his eyes, takes another drink.

"It's alright," Stacker tells him.

Chuck’s grief gives way to his anger. "No it's fucking not," Chuck corrects.

And then Chuck yells and rants and raves.

Chuck’s anger is terrifying in its intensity and its pugnacity. Chuck deals with insecurity and discomfort by changing the subject, and he channels his anger by bringing in his opponent’s insecurities, drawing a fight from them.

Stacker does not desire to be an opponent, nor does he want to fight. He doesn’t rise to Chuck’s petty taunting, and the anger abates. The grief returns twice as strong, and Chuck’s yelling is soon choked on sobs.

Stacker watches the level of the whiskey, and when it passes Chuck's acceptable limits, he pulls the bottle away once more. He pulls Chuck to his feet, and starts walking him to the bunk he and Herc share.

There is a weaving group of J-Techs still in the hallway, and the tone is celebratory, though it mutes as Stacker makes his way by them. They're all wearing the same olive green, and they all lower their heads in respect.

Max starts barking loudly when Stacker knocks on the doors to the Hansens' quarters.

Herc's own gaze is glazed over when he opens the door. He accepts a loose and pliable Chuck, and wraps an arm around Stacker's back, pulling him into a hug. "Thank you," he says, slurring, stubble razing across Stacker's jaw.

Stacker pulls back, and rests his hand on Herc's shoulder, once more. "If you need to talk," he says, quietly.

Herc nods.

“You can take it from here?”

"'s not the first time I'd've had to do this," Herc says, heavily.

Chuck has never managed his grief well.

Stacker hopes he may start to.

 

\+ + +

 

The next few days are a chaotic blur of teleconferences, press conferences, medical exams, medical releases, evening tea, the frequent burst of emotion from passing j-techs, memorials for Cherno Alpha and Crimson Typhoon. After the memorials, Stacker thanks the Cherno Alpha and Crimson Typhoon crews, then thanks the Striker Eureka crew, thanks the last minute crew that had been assembled for Gipsy Danger.

Stacker had been busy non-stop leading up to Operation Pitfall, but there had been little media attention then. Now, the eyes of the world are on him. He carries the weight well, being followed nearly everywhere by the legion of photographers that have been sent by the UN to properly memorialize the aftermath of V-K-Day.

The only marker of time Stacker truly has is his evening tea with Mako, which turns into evening tea with Mako and Raleigh. Stacker doesn't speak much, just listens to them talking, enjoying his only time to rest and relax.

Dr. Lightcap is unhappy with his sleep schedule — his condition hasn't worsened, but they need to continue to monitor his health, and he needs to take care of himself. She tells him he needs to work less, and he doesn't need to tell her how unlikely that is.

Herc joins him in his office the next day to help with the administration work. It's the first time Stacker has seen Herc without Chuck, but Stacker understands — the idea that he may have lost Mako still makes him tense. At least he had been in the position where he might have been able to protect her. Stacker knows Herc well enough to know how helpless he must have felt, and he still sees the tight lines of worry. Stacker knows Herc will talk to him when he needs to, and so he helps by keeping Herc busy.

In the past week since Operation Pitfall, the future of the PPDC has been heavily speculated upon. After the UN had cut funding and declared the Jaeger Program to be discontinued, the program is no longer considered to be under the UN. The UN is submitting proposal after proposal to win the PPDC back, as is each representative within the UN, as well as over a dozen different countries and a hundred private contractors. Stacker and Herc have thrown out the private contractors, but there are still so many proposal remaining, and long days are spent reading through them.

 

\+ + +

 

Stacker prefers to leave his office door open, when he can.

The sound of footsteps approaching is a familiar one in the back of his mind, but it is not the familiar sound of Mako, or Herc, or even Tendo. Stacker looks up from his data pad, and is not as surprised as he thinks he should be. "Yes, Mr. Hansen?"

Chuck is hovering halfway to his desk. He lifts his head up, feeling like he's on the defensive. "I just thought you ought to know," he starts. "Me and the old man, we're thinking about moving back to Sydney. He hasn't found a place to live, we're gonna look together, tour around a bit as well. They've been wanting their heroes back, and I figure Dad's been away long enough, he'll probably enjoy being back there again. And it's not as sodding cold as it is up here."

Herc had said as much earlier in the morning. "And?"

Chuck shrugs, the motion jerky. "I just thought you should know — with all the work being finished up here... we dunno when exactly we're leaving, may be a week or two, may be a couple of days. Don't know how long we'll be down there either, especially since there are probably going to be clean-ups necessary, but...." His shoulders draw in further.

Stacker folds his hands. "Your father had already informed me of your plans the other night, though I appreciate you wanting to make sure I knew," he says, as diplomatically as he can manage.

"Yeah," Chuck says, face going a slight bit red. "Well, I'll let you get back to your bureaucratic shit then. We'll see you before we leave, probably."

Stacker nods. “I plan on seeing you two off.”

Chuck looks conflicted, before he gives a nod and a tight, “Okay.” 

And then Chuck is gone.

 

\+ + +

 

Half an hour later, Herc returns from his lunch. They continue working, quietly, except for a few punctuations of Stacker sighing at a far-fetched proposal or Herc snorting at the same.

"He approached me, you know," Stacker says, conversationally, as he hands over the first draft of Rep. Taylor's newest proposal. It will likely require just as many edits as the last proposal, and Stacker will be just as likely to accept this proposal as he been the past few drafts, but he knows Taylor will keep fighting for it, and they need to at least make of show of considering it.

Herc is scowling down at the proposal, likely thinking the same. "Taylor?"

"Chuck," Stacker clarifies.

Herc looks up, surprised. “About what?”

"He just wanted to inform me that the two of you were planning on returning to Sydney."

"Chuck?" Herc repeats, sounding dubious. "Well, son of a bitch." He's quiet for a long moment. Clears his throat. "What was it like, piloting with him?"

"It has been over ten years since I last jockeyed, and my medical state made it difficult. But your son is an exceptional pilot. Not better than Tamsin,” he adds. “No one could be. But Chuck was exceptional, and made the battle far easier.”

"But it — drifting with him wasn’t _difficult_?"

"There is little difficulty between us." Herc’s gaze drops, and Stacker leans in. "The war is over, Herc. You don't have to be his co-pilot anymore — just be his father."

Herc runs a hand over his face. "I never quite managed it right."

"It is never too late to start."

Herc snorts, gruffly says, "I'm not quite sure he wants me to."

He does. Pulsing in the back of his mind had been a desire to reconcile, guilt and regrets over the fact that he would die at age twenty-one without having one serious talk with his father.

There is the question of morality with Drifting, of how much information one co-pilot should share about the other. But Stacker is certain Herc should know the dramatic nature of what he’s said. Stacker doesn't need to tell him that he's stating fears, not facts.

There familiar sound of Mako's footsteps has Stacker looking past Herc. She bows as she enters. “Representative Satou is in Hong Kong. He has asked for a guide. Would it be alright if I were to miss our evening tea?”

“I can keep him company,” Herc offers with a tired smile.

 

\+ + +

 

Things get busier and busier, and Stacker does not have the time to see Chuck and Herc to the airport, though he clears twenty minutes in his afternoon to see them just to the helicopter pad.

There had been a party prior with the Striker Eureka crew, who are in a loose semi-circle around them now. Stacker stands with Chuck and Herc, and Mako is standing at his side.

"Herc, Chuck," Stacker says. “Thank you.”

A round of applause from the Striker crew goes up at that.

Herc gives him a small smile and a small salute, and steps into the helicopter. Max is barking from inside.

Chuck looks oddly hesitant, but he follows his father.

The helicopter takes off.

 

\+ + +

 

Over evening tea, Mako announces she and Raleigh are moving to Tokyo, and leaving the next day.

It comes a surprise on such short notice, but Stacker smiles, and asks for pictures, and sees them off the next afternoon.

 

\+ + +

 

Things remains busy — Stacker has difficulty keeping track of all of the conferences and teleconferences with the UN, with the UN representatives who want to know about any suggested revisions and the purpose behind those revisions.

Soon after Mako and Raleigh leave, there begins discussions of a huge press event. The Pitfall Four picture is already iconic, and the few interviews haven't been enough coverage for the media. The media loves them and can't get enough of them. They are clamoring for a tour of the Shatterdomes, but the Shatterdomes would need to be reinstated first. Instead, the UN is pushing for it to take place in San Francisco — it would be fitting, they say. The Wall in San Francisco was the first demolished after V-K-Day, Stacker notes.

The meetings drain him, and during the breaks from scheduling, Stacker enjoys the text messages he receives from Mako; small observations and asides, or pictures of her new flat.

As they reach the finalized schedule, a coffee break shows him a missed call on his mobile from Chuck. The voicemail is just a few moments of background noise, before there's a small ' _fuck it_ ' and the voicemail ends.

 

\+ + +

Stacker's flight arrives within the same late Saturday night hour as Herc and Chuck's, and so he finds their gate, and waits.

They are on the first inaugural non-stop flight from Sydney to San Francisco, and there is pomp and circumstance and photographers clicking picture after picture of the two tired but smiling Hansens.

A PPDC PR officer is there, and presumably had instructed that questions were not permitted.

Although some members of the press leave, it goes on long past Chuck’s tolerance. Although Stacker himself is tired, when he is spotted, he strides over to the scene. “Herc, Chuck,” he greets, with a handshake to each. He steps between them, resting his hands on the middle of their backs. "How was the flight, then?"

Chuck gives him a dark look. "Long," he says through a forced smile.

This garners some laughs from the audience, though Stacker feels Chuck tense.

“Well, then,” Stacker announces, clapping each of them on the shoulder. “I think it would be best to get you two to somewhere where you might be able to shake the jet lag.” Chuck particularly has never done well with the time zone change. He says a few words of thanks to their crowd, and he leads them through the press.

“Thank you,” Chuck says, emphatically, a few meters off. “Thought we’d be stuck there for-fucking-ever.”

“You’re improving public morale,” Stacker says — the entire reason it had happened. “And you performed admirably, under less than ideal circumstances. Thank _you_."

“Yeah, yeah,” Chuck says, colouring slightly. “How much longer until this hotel you mentioned?”

“It should be less than half an hour’s drive. The bags should be in the car by the time we arrive.”

Stacker leads the way to the pick-up section, and Chuck falls in step with him.

 

\+ + +

 

The traffic is worse than Stacker had imagined, and it takes twice as long to arrive at the hotel. Herc is able to doze in the front seat, but Chuck spends his time texting the Striker Eureka crew member who agreed to dogsit Max.

At the hotel, they're given a presidential suite, spanning two floors. The bottom floor has a kitchen, a dining area, a living room, a bathroom, a sprawling south-east balcony. The upper floor houses the guest bedrooms, two rooms with two large king sized beds each, one room with only one bed. They all have a bathroom attached to them, and they all connect to a north-east balcony.

The sun is setting and the sunset is stunning, from what Stacker can see through a small western facing window in his room. Far more beautiful than the view of the city that the balcony provides.

Mako and Raleigh arrive an hour after they have all settled, and Stacker looks forward to a quiet evening, just the five of them.

However, after Mako and Raleigh enter, Taylor trails in after them.

Stacker feels relieved he did not dress down, but it is the only spark of positivity in the room. Herc has never cared much for the man, even prior to him announcing the shut down of the Jaeger Program, and Stacker can almost feel Chuck go tense at the sight of him.

“It is good to see you all here,” Taylor says. He's not unaware of the effect he has, but he covers it up with a flashy smile. “I hope you don’t mind me stepping in—”

Chuck snorts, loudly.

“—but I thought it would be nice to stop by before all of the fun starts Monday morning.” When he gets no reply, he continues, “Discuss appropriate—”

"Oh, fuck off," Chuck tells him. Everyone turns to Chuck and stares. When no one says anything, he continues, "You think this is our first press circuit?"

Taylor is speechless for a moment.

“We’re all pilots here. Everyone here has been through the media shitstorm. Mako hadn't even been a jaeger pilot, and she knows the press circus bullshit. We all know what you’re here to say—”

“I just thought it might help—” Taylor explains with a tight smile.

“If you really wanted to help us," Chuck says, hotly, "you wouldn’t’ve even cut funding for that fucking useless Wall. But you couldn’t help us then, and you’re not going to help us now. Now, you’re just looking to cover your asses, and make sure we don’t take every chance we can to talk about how your cowardice shut down the Jaeger Program and nearly got us all killed.”

Mako and Raleigh are looking at Stacker worriedly, but Stacker is not concerned. Chuck has been itching to yell at a UN representative, and better here than in public or televised.

Taylor disregards Chuck and turns to Stacker. “This is an important event coming up, you really should keep your Rangers in line—”

And at that, Stacker feels a flare of annoyance. He steps towards Taylor, and angles himself towards the door. “I hope you can understand that we are all tired after very long flights, as you might be as well. Perhaps it would be best if we were to all retire for the evening.”

Taylor opens his mouth.

Stacker, very firmly, says, “I will see to it that we discuss what is appropriate and not appropriate to say. Goodnight, Representative Taylor.”

Taylor seems hesitant to leave, though he manages a sincere sounding parting remark as Stacker escorts him to the door. Stacker replies in kind, then waits a polite moment before firmly shutting the door behind Taylor.

When he returns, he takes a deep breath in, a deep breath out. Everyone is watching him. “Chuck,” Stacker says, finally. “Herc. You two have had a long flight. Get some sleep.”

“Yessir,” Herc replies. Herc shoots Chuck a look, and leads them up the stairs.

As they climb up, Mako says, "Chuck — thank you." Chuck stops and stares at her, bewildered. “He spoke the entire drive here.”

Chuck makes a face at the remark, and grumbles something under his breath, and continues up.

When he hears the door upstairs close, Stacker looks between Mako and Raleigh. Mako had inched in front of Raleigh during Taylor's impromptu stay, and with Taylor gone, Raleigh has finally wrapped his arms around her in a loose embrace. "Would you like me to show you to your rooms?"

Raleigh shakes his head. "Think we can manage it, Marshal."

Mako pulls away for a moment to hug Stacker. "Goodnight," she murmurs, before returning to Raleigh. They stumble up the stairs together.

Their door closes, and Stacker makes his way to his room, where he dresses down and finally rests on his own bed.

 

\+ + +

 

Stacker dozes, but after a few hours of waking up at nothing, he finally rolls onto his side. The clock tells him it's four-thirty.

He sighs, runs a hand over his face, and then pulls on a sleeping shirt. Mako will not be awake, she has always been able to sleep off jet lag, and Herc is the same; but Raleigh, Stacker knows, suffers from insomnia, and Stacker knows that Chuck doesn't do well with the time change.

Stacker follows the illumination down to the kitchen of the suite, and Stacker knows it's Chuck even before he sees him.

Chuck is sitting in a pair of soft sleep pants, and a too-big shirt. He has a glass of water in front of him, and is looking at Stacker warily. "I'm not sorry for what I said earlier," Chuck says, rolling his shoulders back.

Stacker doesn't expect him to, and an uncharitable part of him thinks he shouldn’t. He doesn’t remark upon that, only asks, "Have you been up long?"

Chuck shifts. "I don't know. A while. Dad can sleep off jet lag. I can’t.”

"I know," Stacker says, simply. He goes over to the cupboard, and pulls out a glass. Habit has him running the tab for a moment before he puts his glass under the stream of crystal-clear water.

It's not a luxury he's had in some time.

Chuck is staring at him, expression guarded. "You generally do well with time zone changes," Chuck says, cautiously.

It is the first thing Chuck has said on the bond they created in the Drift, and Stacker finds himself pleased that Chuck has brought it up. Surprised, but pleased.

"Generally," Stacker agrees. "But I suppose I did not get an enough sleep last night."

"I haven't been sleeping too well either," Chuck admits. He folds his arms on the island counter, and flops down onto them. “‘m tired, but…”

“Anything on your mind?”

Chuck shoots him a disbelieving look.

“That you want to talk about?” Stacker clarifies.

Chuck shrugs, and goes silent for a long minute. “Taylor’s an asshole.”   
“He is,” Stacker replies.

It gets a small smile from Chuck. He sighs, his eyes sliding closed. "'m not going to trash talk the UN, though."

"I know."

"What's it all going to be like— scheduling and all that? I had my own interviews, and you..." Chuck looks awkward, and he waves a lazy hand above him, "...you've had plenty during the Glory Days, so I know, but..."

"We will consult the schedule tomorrow morning, or afternoon. If there are any time changes that need to be made, we will deal with it then."

Chuck gives him a grin. "Basically you're too tired to talk about it right now."

Stacker sets his empty glass in the sink. "Yes," he says. He puts a hand on Chucks' head as he passes. "Go to bed, Chuck."

 

\+ + +

 

Stacker wakes up to find that their suite has been assigned a chef for breakfast, and that he has missed the chef. He had cooked extra though, and there are plenty of muffins and fruit bowls left behind.

Mako is the only one up besides Stacker, though she dozes off in one of the arm chairs as they watch the morning news. The day was assigned to them, officially, to look over the schedule and see if any changes needed to be made but unofficially, it was for them to sleep off the jet lag.

By two, though, Herc and Raleigh and Chuck have awoken. They call room services for a late lunch, and discuss their schedule then. And there is quite a bit to cover.

Monday morning they are spending an hour on a morning show, together, in separate groups, and together again. Afterwards, they are split into groupings — Mako and Raleigh, Chuck and Herc, Chuck and Stacker, Mako and Stacker, Herc and Stacker, Raleigh on solo interviews, Mako on solo interviews. There are interviews for telly, interviews for the internet, magazine articles and newspaper articles, and a few photo shoots scattered about as well.

It will be good for publicity, and good for funding, even though Chuck grouses that they're not going to have any time to sleep.

 

\+ + +

 

The first interview is cut up into segments — airing live, it's the five of them, Mako, Raleigh and Chuck on a couch, Stacker and Herc on chairs behind them. It lasts for somewhere between fifteen and twenty minutes. Stacker likes the interviewer — he's asking the standard questions, but he isn't asking only the standard questions. During the commercial break, Stacker, Herc and Chuck are moved offstage while the interviewer talks to Raleigh and Mako.

There are a few instances of them speaking or moving in unison, which has always garnered applause from the audience, from the first interview where the Gage twins crossed their legs together.

Stacker focuses on Mako and her answers, but when Raleigh talks, Stacker finds himself watching Chuck's expressions. They consist of a lot of eye rolls, simpering mockery, and some mouthed disbelieving explicatives.

"Oi," Herc says, elbowing Chuck in the side.

It makes Chuck glare, and Stacker can see the way he withdrawals."Save the commentary for watching the second airing, Chuck."

Chuck huffs, annoyed.

Raleigh and Mako go on past the planned twenty minutes, and Stacker is concerned for Chuck's mood when they're shown their own chairs during a commercial break.

“I can imagine you’ll be asked a lot of the same questions in the upcoming week, so I’m going to try and mix things up a little bit. So, Chuck, you are youngest pilot in the Jaeger Program.”

Chuck nods, and there's a smattering of applause.

“What was the strangest thing about Drifting with Marshal Pentecost?"

It surprises Stacker, and it surprises Chuck, and he takes a few moment to think about it. 

Stacker considers what Chuck could answer. 

The strangest thing was Drifting with someone who was not his father. The strangest thing was seeing himself through Stacker's eyes — feeling Stacker's disapproval on occasions, some rather recent, but feeling Stacker's underlying respect for Chuck. The strangest thing was holding a handshake with someone new for longer than his Jaeger Academy record of fourteen minutes. There strangest thing was misconceptions corrected — Stacker didn't define himself by his military service, Stacker's past that lead him to the military, Stacker wasn't a dog person until Drifting with Tamsin. The strangest thing was Tamsin's lingering memory on the other side of Stacker, instead of his uncle's lingering memories on the other side of his father.

"That I now know a wide collection of music I don't care about."

Stacker looks at him sharply.

"Not a big fan of Reinhardt," Chuck tells him, trying for a somber expression that ends up far more shit-eating.

Stacker narrows his eyes. It was not the answer he was expecting.

He may have preferred a different answer.

Chuck shrugs.

“Reinhardt?” their interviewer asks.

“Django Reinhardt,” they say together, then wait for the applause to die down. Stacker lifts his head, and continues, “He was one of the major contributors to the development of jazz, he invented a new guitar technique after paralyzing his fingers, and is one of the greatest guitar players of all time."

“He’s okay,” Chuck says.

“It’s something better than what you listen to,” Stacker tells him.

The audience laughs, and though Chuck glares, he’s fighting a smile.

 

\+ + +

 

There's a series of photo shoots for the rest of the day — long and tedious, but they're in good spirits. Chuck and Raleigh get into an argument, but it's far friendlier than their last. And this one ends with Mako punching Chuck in the arm.

They make it back to their hotel suite in time for a very late dinner. While Mako and Chuck argue over what to order, Raleigh picks up a piece of paper from the kitchen island. He reads it, and his expression goes dark.

"What is it?" Mako asks.

"It's a list of topics the UN has approved for the rest of the two weeks," Raleigh says, gaze flashing angrily as he turns to Stacker. His voice shakes as he tells them, "Yancy is on here. So is Knifehead."

Herc takes the paper from Raleigh.

"Can't you talk to him, change it, or—?"

"Says here, no more changes," Herc interrupts, tone clipped. "Next time I see Taylor, I am going to—"

"Herc," Stacker says, quietly. "May I see the list?"

It's crumpled slightly under Herc's grasp, and he shoves it over. "I need a drink."

Stacker looks over the list and frowns. "I think we will all need a few drinks."

Room service comes and they all decline a member of the hotel staff to mix their drinks. Herc makes all their drinks a bit strong, though it makes it easier for them to loosen up. They all agree it's going to be a disaster.

Which leads to a rousing discussion on other interviewing disasters, and then the stranger interviews.

Stacker has never minded the publicity stunts. Sure, he thought some of the photo shoots were odd or perhaps unnecessary, but the public loved them, and they were enjoyable. And they continue to be enjoyable to commiserate about, especially with the drink selection on the house.

“The one with you and Tamsin and the Jessops, and there was that, that one hair stylist—” Chuck manages, before he starts laughing too hard to keep talking.

“This is not the first time a hair stylist has been brought up,” Herc says, looking at Stacker with a hard, suspicious expression.

"I gotta hear about this," Raleigh says, leaning in.

With the delicate subjects that the interviews of tomorrow will deal with, they should probably stop drinking. But Raleigh is smiling the widest Stacker has seen him smile in over five years. Mako's eyes are bright with curiosity. Chuck is actually crying from laughter. Herc's expression has melted into his carefree smile from the Glory Days, and he's standing up even before Stacker relents and says, "I will need another another drink first. We will _all_ need another drink first."

 

\+ + +

 

The drunken cheer of the prior evening helps to alleviate the pain of the subjects brought up, but the interviews are still painful — Yancy is brought up, as is Tokyo and Scissure and Tamsin.

“It’s been ten years since you piloted with Ranger Sevier, and two years since she died. Would you rather you had piloted with her for Operation Pitfall?”

It's a dirty question, and Stacker will be talking to Taylor about it later.

For now, he spends a few moments staring into the audience, as he considers a question he never would have hoped to have to consider.

"Tamsin and I were friends from childhood. Her death was difficult for me. Were it to mean that she would still be alive, I would have preferred to fight with her in the end, as we had been fighting together since the beginning."

 

\+ + +

 

Stacker spends the rest of the day on a three-way call with his mother as well as Tamsin's.

That night, there's a knock at his door.

"Come in," Stacker calls, from where he's lying on the bed. He shifts so that he's sitting at the foot of the bed.

The door pushes open, though Chuck lingers in the doorframe. "I don't get it," he says. "Why..."

Stacker gestures for Chuck to step into his room, and waits.

“Why aren’t you... why am I... We...”

"The Drift is a very intimate place. It's why co-pilots were tested for a prolonged period of time, to make sure that their compatibility is solid, and healthy."

"You think this is—" but then Chuck cuts himself off. He paces, and keeps his eyes on the ground, obviously thinking things over.

Stacker sits and waits.

Chuck stops, and stares at him. "First time Drifts — co-pilots can’t stay away from each other. You and Tamsin, Mako and Becket, even me and Dad when we first started out. How can you control it?”

"As I said, I brought nothing to the Drift. And so, I brought nothing out of it."

Chuck's expression shuts down. "Yeah. Right. I'll let you get back to sleep, then."

Stacker runs his hand over his face. Chuck took his meaning the wrong way, Stacker knows.

 

\+ + +

 

The next day, Chuck and Herc have their own interview, while Mako sleeps after her own earlier that morning. Stacker and Raleigh watch from the sidelines.

Chuck’s answers have been steadily more and more terse. A question about Striker makes him shut down entirely.

"I think Chuck may be experiencing some difficulties with the silence after the Drift," Stacker says.

Raleigh looks at him, head tilted to the side, and he nods. His eyes look tired, and Stacker knows he understands exactly what Stacker means.

 

\+ + +

 

Stacker’s sleep schedule has evened out where he can enjoy the services of the chef.

Raleigh has started sleeping better and sleeping in, and so Stacker finds himself sharing breakfast with Mako at the dining table.

The next morning, Stacker enjoys his muffin and eggs with Mako, and decides that the situation warrants another muffin, and Mako adds a few requests from the spread the chef had left.

He's at the kitchen island when Chuck comes down, eyes bleary, expression dark.

"Good morning, Chuck," Stacker greets.

Chuck glares at him. He starts pushing things onto a napkin, not really looking at what he's doing. "You know, if you wanted me to sod off, you could have just told me, you didn't need to sic Becket on me," he snaps, sullenly, before he stalks off, shoving on his shoes, and leaving the suite, slamming the door after him. Stacker watches him go, then returns tot he table, and sighs.

When Raleigh walks down a minute later, he's sporting a cut on his cheekbone, and Stacker imagines easily where it came from.

Raleigh presses a sleepy kiss to Mako's temple, before seeing Stacker and looking mildly apologetic.

"I should have expected that would not have gone over well," Stacker says, gaze flicking to the cut.

Raleigh shakes his head. "Someone will be able to get through to him," he says.

Mako's gaze is curious as she looks between the two of them.

Raleigh just places his hand on Mako's, and runs his thumb over the back of her hand. Then he reaches for the plate that Mako had just requested.

Stacker smiles to himself — but finds himself glancing towards the door every so often.

 

\+ + + 

 

Chuck's interview was cancelled at the last minute, Mako and Raleigh have an interview together, and Stacker and Herc had gone to the San Francisco medical facility together. Dr. Lightcap had just requested blood samples from Stacker, and it was the shortest trip he had taken in the past three years.

Chuck is sitting curled low into the corner of the couch, feet planted on the coffee table. He looks up when Stacker enters the suite, and then seems to curl more in on himself.

Stacker goes over and sits down next to him, in the middle of the couch.

From the corner of his eye, he sees Chuck looks up at him incredulously, but Chuck doesn't say anything, and so neither does Stacker.

Minutes trickle by, the episode ends, and, after a commercial announcing an all-day marathon, the next episode starts. It's a mindless police drama, the murderer reveals in the pre-credits opening, and over the course of the procedural team finding out whodunit, Chuck slowly relaxes. In the final scene after the reveal, Stacker feels the brush of contact as Chuck’s shoulder presses against his. Stacker leans over to grab the remote off the coffee table, then sets it down on the cushion next to him.

"Show's terrible, you can change it if you want," Chuck says, defensive.

Stacker makes a show of settling back into the couch. "My concern is for the volume. I just didn't want to lean to get it later, should it be too loud for the others later."

“It’ll be hours before they return.”

“I don't plan on going anywhere else,” Stacker tells him. 

Chuck looks at him, disbelieving.

It's not until the next episode starts does Chuck lean against him once more, more heavily this time.

At some point before the second commercial break, Chuck's head rests heavily against Stacker's shoulder. A glance down shows that Chuck's chest is rising and falling slowly, having had fallen deep asleep.

It is a reassuring sight to see; raised in a war, then raised a soldier, Chuck has felt the need to be always prepared for battle, has always been a light sleeper.

Stacker finds himself feeling a bit more relaxed, and as he watches the show, he wonders how much of it is just seeing Chuck more relaxed, how much of it is the fact that he has been denying the Drift bond just as much as Chuck.

It's calm, the two of them, and quiet.

It's nice.

It's not like Tamsin, but it doesn't have to be. And it shouldn't be — Stacker hasn't Drifted since Tamsin died, her memories had slowly settled to the back of his mind. Drifting stirred them back up, but it's time for them to settle again. She will always be in the back of his mind, as she should be. But it's not the only piloting bond he has now, and he shouldn't treat it as such.

Herc enters during the next episode, and his expression goes shuttered as he looks between the two of them.

Stacker pats the seat next to him, and he's careful not to shift Chuck as Herc sits.

"What do you think the difference is?" Herc asks, the next commercial break.

"I"m not his father," Stacker says, easily.

"You look... he looks comfortable."

"Because I'm not his father."

Herc doesn't seem happy.

Stacker pulls his arm from between them, then wraps it around Herc's shoulders, pulling him in.

"This show is terrible," Herc announces, a few minutes later. "Anything better on?"

“You’re sitting on the remote.”

Herc channel surfs, and Stacker just leans back, feeling content in a way he has not felt in a long time.

 

\+ + +

 

The final days pass quickly and easily, and their final photo shoot has them all in good moods.

Chuck and Herc have their flight to Sydney soon after, with a sizable layover scheduled in Hawaii. Mako and Raleigh have a later flight, and they have an early dinner together, and Mako makes him promise he will visit.

 

\+ + +

 

Representative Cole is glad for Stacker’s desire to return to London, and he finds Stacker housing listings. Stacker buys the first flat in Tottenham that he sees.

The flat is already furnished, but Stacker buys decorations regardless.

He still has far more meetings with UN than he should, though with the date for voting on the first round of proposals delayed a week, the meetings have slowed some.

Stacker gets a breather from a lengthy meeting, and he considers a few things to say, before he texts Chuck, _UN meetings are not as fun as you imagined they would be._

His reply is rather quick, and it's a short, _Yeah, figured that out myself._

A few moments later, it's followed up by a _How bad?_

Stacker doesn't think the UN will bother to bug his phone, but to be safe, he just opts for, _Long._

And like that, some sort of barricade is broken, and they enter an odd texting pattern. Chuck will text excitedly for a few minutes, then sometimes go quiet the rest of the day. The time zones make it difficult as well, as Chuck seems to constantly forget they are on opposite sides of the planet. Sometimes Stacker is unhappy to be woken up by an insistent string of texts, sometimes he doesn't mind at all.

 

\+ + +

 

Stacker flies to Tokyo to meet with Dr. Lightcap one last time, before she moves to her new office within the London medical facility. Stacker doesn't mind — it will make keeping up with his appointments easier, and he will find time to visit Tokyo and Mako regardless.

Mako is talking animatedly with Dr. Lightcap when Stacker enters the waiting room. Mako brightens up when she sees him. He has never liked Mako at his appointments, but always preferred her to be there after the appointment than before.

"What were you and Dr. Lightcap talking about?" Stacker asks, as they ride the bus to Mako's neighborhood.

"Catching up. Her new research. How Sergio is doing." Mako keeps her gaze firmly out the window as she confesses, "As well, I am concerned for Raleigh’s health."

"He will be alright," he assures her.

"He is grocery shopping right now," she says, after a beat. "He wants to make you lunch. He's discovered an interest in cooking."

Stacker huffs a laugh at the thought.

They ride in a companionable silence, shoulder to shoulder.

Mako’s flat is modest, but nice. She shows him around, showing him the kitchen, the bathroom, her room, Raleigh’s room. The living room has a wide view of the ocean, and different drawings of Gipsy Danger and Mako and Raleigh are taped around the sliding glass door out to the balcony.

Stacker steps up to them, and touches the side of one. “When I visited you for the first time after the attack on Tokyo,” he starts, turning back to look at her, “you gave me one of these pictures. Do you remember?"

Mako flushes. "It wasn't very good."

"I still have it,” he tells her.

Mako blinks. “Really?”

“I treasure it.” He walks over to where she is standing in the middle of the living room, and he sets his hands down on her shoulders. “I treasure you. You are a brave girl, Mako-san, and you always have been. In Drifting with Chuck, I found myself part of conversations between the two of you. There were some impressions you held, and I would like to make my position on certain matters better known, if I may.”

Mako nods hesitantly.

“I kept you from joining the Jaeger Academy as long as I could because I had been through the Drift, I knew the emotion that it could bring up, despite how much emotion control one might have. I was also aware of the danger it places one individual in, in many different ways. It was not a mark against you that I held you back. And when you were able to pilot, I had very high hopes for you. And as high as they were, you managed to surpass them.”

She presses her lips together, her eyes watering.

“I told you that I was proud to watch you have grown. The fact that I will continue to watch you grow… I consider myself a very lucky man. I am so proud of you, Mako. Aishite imasu.”

She blinks, and tears stream down her face. She straightens herself up, then hugs him. He holds her.

They stand like that for a few minutes, until the door opens.

"Marshal," Raleigh greets, as he makes his way through to the kitchen, laden down with groceries.

"Raleigh," Stacker replies. Mako takes a step back from him, and he turns to watch Raleigh. "Do you need a hand with anything?"

"Not at the moment," Raleigh says, his voice going muffled as he heads deep into the kitchen.

Chuck texts asking about how the medical exam went as Raleigh sets their lunch down.

Stacker smiles. _Everything is fine._

 

\+ + +

 

The proposal deadline is once more approaching, and Stacker finds himself busier than he was during the end of the world.

A Monday morning two hour meeting goes far over two hours, and Stacker is near ravenous by the time it ends. To avoid getting sucked into a sycophantic lunch, he excuses himself from the group, and takes the stairs instead of the elevator, and steps out a side door to the building.

Chuck is waiting for him on the park bench just outside the building. He’s as incognito as he can get, with shades, a hoodie on with the hood up, and a pair of fingerless gloves. There’s a white paper bag by his side.

"Good morning, Chuck," he greets, as he approaches.

"It's practically the afternoon," Chuck says in response, before he starts burrowing through the bag. He pulls out a sandwich wrapped in basic white butcher paper.

"And this is?" Stacker asks, though as he takes it, and gets the first smell of it, he knows.

Chuck shrugs. "I thought you might be hungry after you got out from the meeting." He gets up, and crumbles the top of the bag, and looks to either side of Stacker.

Stacker doesn’t move. "Chuck," he says, putting enough steel into his voice so that Chuck looks up, managing to seem stricken and guilty even through the shades. He sets his free hand on Chuck's shoulder. "It is not a criticism. I know you are uncomfortable with our bond from the Drift, but there is no need to be defensive."

"You're surprised that I'm finally acting like a decent human being, and yeah, I think that's enough to make me feel defensive."

Stacker closes his eyes. The wording is imperfect, but it snags some distant memory. "I am only surprised that you seem to be embracing it, rather than eschewing—"

"I was willing to embrace it after the Breach, you were the one that sent Becket after me—"

"Chuck. Stop fighting," he says, softly.

“I’m not fighting—”

“ _Chuck_.”

Chuck looks uncomfortable.

And that is the problem. Always has been.

"The war is over," Stacker continues. "The kaiju are gone. You and your father don't have to share the same headspace. Becket isn't around, unless you're willing to seek out his company. I know you consider yourself a soldier, but we are at peace. Stop fighting."

Chuck grumbles something under his breath. "Your reuben's going to go cold if you keep talking."

"And what did you get?" Stacker asks, letting the conversation slip for the moment. He starts walking in the direction towards his flat. They walk along the streets of London, and he sees that it's a custom sandwich with salami and turkey and three different types of cheese. They talk and eat and and walk. Or at least Stacker walks, Chuck seems to have some odd gait.

Chuck balls his butcher paper up, and tosses it to the bin, fist pumping victoriously as he makes it.

Stacker raises an eyebrow, takes three steps back, and sinks his own shot.

"Show off," Chuck tells him, but he’s grinning

Stacker grins in reply. “How long have you been in London?”

“Just over a day now.”

It's not until they're halfway down the next block does Chuck's gait click— it's off.

Stacker stops, as he feels like he constantly has to do with Chuck. "Take your sunglasses off."

Chuck freezes. Instantly his hands are in his pockets.

It's getting dark out, they have been recognized but not approached, Stacker doesn't know of a reason for Chuck to still be wearing sunglasses.

But, with how sore he's been seeming, Stacker can guess a reason.

Chuck seems to understand Stacker’s conclusion. "It was nothing.”

"Take off your sunglasses."

Chuck takes them off, and stuffs them into his hoodie pocket. "Happy?" he asks, glaring at Stacker, one eye a shining blueish purple.

"Curious," Stacker corrects. “And willing to listen.”

Chuck shrugs his shoulder. "It was just a simple brawl. No one got really hurt," Chuck continues, voice going up in defensiveness. "It was just a bunch of guys, letting off some steam, nothing really came of it, other than a few black eyes and someone getting a split lip."

Stacker glances down, remembers that Chuck has been wearing fingerless gloves.

Chuck draws himself up straight, frowning.

Stacker just sighs, long and deep, even though he knows from the way Chuck's expression pinches that it is only making Chuck feel worse about it. "What started it?"

"What usually starts a brawl in an English pub? Football," Chuck says, with a shrug.

"You never liked football."

He shrugs again.

Stacker closes his eyes. Chuck may not be a fan of the sport, but Stacker was a devoted fan of the Tottenham Hotspurs when he was growing up. He has had little time to watch the team this season, but he had still been unhappy with their losing score last night.

As was Chuck, Stacker guesses. 

"How long are you staying in London?"

Chuck shrugs.

“Where have you been staying?”

“First hotel I could find that would let me bring in Max.”

Stacker hails a cab. “My place is plenty big enough.”

"Are dogs allowed?"

"Of course."

Stacker had made sure of it.

 

\+ + +

 

Stacker has a late-night radio interview, and he finds himself stumbling back to his flat at half past one. He flicks the light in the foyer on, enough light to allow him to unlace his shoes, and enough to see into his flat.

The TV is on, sound muted, and Chuck is lying on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table, head resting in the nook between the arm and the back of the sofa.

His neck will probably be sore tomorrow morning.

Still, he's a light sleeper, and so Stacker only goes to get a blanket from a closet, and drapes it over Chuck from ankle to upper torso. He gets an extra pillow, and sets it down next to Chuck.

Then he makes his way to his room, slips out of his shoes, slips out of his shirt and trousers, and flops down onto his bed. He slides under his sheets, and after a few minutes of trying to find the right position, he drifts asleep.

 

\+ + +

 

He's awaken the next morning by a tongue on his hand.

It's alarming for a moment, until Stacker blinks the sleep out of his eyes. He sees Max by his bed, panting heavily, looking up at Stacker almost expectantly. "Morning, Max," he says, for lack of anything else.

Max barks.

Stacker blinks, and pushes himself up. It's early in the morning, the sky still a cool blue-gray outside.

Max probably needs to go outside.

Stacker makes a face, as he searches for a clean pair of trousers, a clean shirt.

The shirt is the one he had on last night, but he manages new trousers, and he slips into a pair of shoes. There's a leash on top of Chuck's duffel bag, and Stacker clips it onto Max's collar, and leads the very frantic bulldog outside. He remembers a plastic bag at the last moment, before locking up after him.

There's a park a few blocks down, and Max is panting happily as Stacker leads him there.

When Stacker was a kid, he had never been much of a dog person. Tamsin was — there was a couple across the street from them that was always jetting across the world, and needed a dogsitter at least once a month. Tamsin had dreamed about getting a dog one day, at odds with hating how high-maintenance the dog had been.

Max requires far less maintenance. Picking up dog shit isn't how Stacker planned to spend what was to be his morning off, but at least he remembered a plastic bag. It's not all too bad, Stacker thinks, as Max tugs his leash out of Stacker's hand, and starts exploring a bit.

He returns with a stick a minute later. Stacker spends a few moments staring at it, before he finds himself falling into a game of fetch.

His time spent outside is only due to being shuffled between buildings and cities. Time to stretch out on grass still damp from early morning dew is not something he has had in many, many years. As well, his mobile is silent, and there is no one clamoring for his attention. Other than Max.

Max tires quickly, and flops down next to Stacker's outstretched legs. Stacker shifts to sitting cross-legged, rotating so Max is lying in front of him. He spends a few minutes rubbing his stomach, making sure to also rub at that spot behind his ears that he always makes him thump his nub of a tail. It's not nearly as enthusiastic as Stacker has memories of — he guesses Max is as much of a fan of flying as Chuck is.

His phone rings, then, and Stacker doesn’t check the caller ID before answering with a, "Good morning, Chuck."

"Stacker, do you know where the hell my dog is?"

"At my feet, lying down for a minute," Stacker replies easily.

"And where the hell are you?"

"The park, a few blocks south."

There's silence on the other end, and Stacker thinks he can hear the rustling of Chuck moving around.

The call ends, and Stacker keeps petting Max, and watching the edge of the park.

Chuck arrives ten minutes later. He's still wearing the same clothes that Stacker had seen him in last night, and earlier yesterday for the same matter.

Max gives out a happy bark when he sees Chuck, and gets to his feet and trots over.

Chuck goes down to one knee when Max approaches, and starts rubbing him down. His face softens in a way Stacker has only ever seen when he's around Max. "Hey there, you," he says, voice dropping into a rougher tone. "Where the hell have you been the entire morning? Leaving without me?" Max barks at that, and butts against Chuck's hand, demanding to be pet some more.

Chuck's face is still bruised from his fight the other day. The lights from the rising sun shine on the harsh bruising, completely at odds with the look of joy on his face.

He looks up at Stacker after a few moments. "Thanks for taking him out this morning," he says, and he doesn't quite manage to put back up all his barriers— his face still seems soft, young.

Stacker smiles. “My pleasure, Chuck.”

Chuck smiles up at him, though it's washed out by the halo of sunlight behind him.

 

\+ + +

 

They spend the day sleeping, Stacker makes the executive decision to call out of his meetings, and they order Chinese takeaway for dinner that night, before falling asleep on the couch.

The doorbell chimes at six the next morning.

Stacker has unkind thoughts towards whoever it may be, before he realizes Chuck is gone, Chuck's shoes are gone, Max is gone.

Stacker goes to the door, and opens it. "Hello, Chuck," he greets. "Max," he greets, as the bulldog makes his way inside, butts his head against Stacker's leg. He crouches down, and pets Max behind the ears, making him wag his tail.

"Sorry to wake you," Chuck says, not seeming all that awake yet himself.

"Go back to sleep," Stacker tells him. "Shoes off first," he adds, louder, as Chuck makes to keep continuing into the flat. From the way his shoulders rise, Stacker guesses that Chuck is making a face.

But then Chuck toes his way out of his shoes, still in sweats. He makes his way back over to the couch, and flops down on it.

They left the Chinese out overnight on the coffee table, and Stacker smells at it, wondering if it's still good.

"Yeah, I think Max got into that last night," Chuck says, sheepishly from his perch on the couch. "Sorry."

Stacker doesn't like wasting food, but he finds the idea of eating after Max even less appealing. "We will remember to clean up next time, then," he says, pitching the containers.

Chuck watches him leave the living room with narrowed eyes. He is halfway asleep when Stacker returns from his room, showered and dressed and ready for the day. "What kind of dog food does Max eat?"

Chuck blinks awake. The confusion is either due to the fact Chuck has always insisted on feeding Max whatever he was eating himself, or the implicit invitation for Chuck to stay indefinitely. "You don't have to," he says, which leans more towards the latter. "I can..."

Stacker pulls out his key ring, and takes off the key for the flat. "Lock up when you step out, please. I should be back around four or five this evening."

"Okay," Chuck says, dumbly. He wraps his fingers around the key, squeezing. "Works for me."

 

\+ + +

 

Raleigh vidcalls him when Chuck is at a brunch interview.

"Hey Marshal," Raleigh starts. "I've been wanting to make that beer-battered fish and chips from November 2019— mind sharing the recipe?"

Stacker considers him for a moment. "You need a beer."

Raleigh scrambles around for a pad, and then asks, "What else?"

"No, I mean you need to drink a beer first, before you start. Part of the process."

"Already got that step down," Raleigh admits, with a boyish smile.

Stacker raises his eyebrows. "Did you drunk call me, Mr. Becket?"

"No, I've... I've been planning on calling for a while, now."

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I try not to focus on the celebrity watcher blogs, but there have been a few pictures of you and Chuck walking Max."

"Oh?" he repeats.

"Yeah."

Raleigh is looking at him expectantly, and so Stacker says, "Chuck has been living with me for the past few weeks."

"Is he... doing any better?"

"In what regard?"

"He set a record for most kaiju kills. And to get there, he had to wrack up some serious hours in simulations, in combat... You know what it's like, losing your jaeger, but after the amount of time he'd spent in Striker... It's gotta be hard for him, you know?"

"I know," Stacker replies. It's a facet of mourning very few people understand. But Stacker does, and he has seen the look on Chuck's face when jaegers are brought up, try as he might to not seem affected. He doesn't answer the question, though.

Raleigh hesitates. "Herc's called, a few times now. I couldn't really answer him too well, but I tried."

"What was Herc asking?" though Stacker is sure he knows the answer.

"He wanted to know about the relationship between me and my dad. I told him my dad walked out after my mom died, and that Herc's already excelled in that criteria."

"The thing about the Hansens," Stacker tells him, and he looks Raleigh straight in the eye as he continues, "is that they are perfectionists. Herc was military, and Chuck learned it from him. Do it perfectly the first time or all effort is wasted. Second chances are not allowed, as the idea of failing a second chance is even worse than failing the first."

"How do you deal with that?"

"I do not voice my disagreements with his outlook on life. Instead, I try to lead through example."

Raleigh is quiet for a few moments. "Mind leading with the batter?"

Stacker smiles. "Not at all, Mr. Becket." He takes his time, rooting around the kitchen, drinking a beer.

 

\+ + +

 

Stacker and Herc don't talk much. It should be no great strain to their friendship — when Stacker was stationed in Tokyo and Herc was in Sydney, they would go weeks without even messaging each other. With the additional challenge of drastically different time zones, as well as an approaching deadline, there is little time for them to chat.

And then there's the fact that Chuck had flown halfway across the world to move in with Stacker. Stacker doesn't know what had preceded the decision, has waited for one of the stubborn two to bring it up. They haven't, and Stacker just guesses it was a series of small arguments followed by a snap decision on Chuck's part.

Chuck has been staying at Stacker's flat for two weeks when Herc finally asks, "How's Chuck doing?" He is looking down at paperwork that is out of frame.

"He's doing fine. Have you spoken to him since he came here?"

Herc shakes his head, gaze still downcast. 

"It is not my place to say such, but you should call him."

"He wouldn't answer," Herc replies, almost immediately.

"He would," Stacker replies.

Herc looks at him, gaze baleful. "I don't want to find out that you may be right, when I fear I may be," he says. He clears his throat, then asks, "How's London treating you?"

"As wonderful as ever," Stacker says, going with the change. "And Sydney?"

"Not as warm as I remember it being," Herc replies, with a shrug.

It probably has more to do with Chuck being absent than anything else. “Call Chuck.”

Herc frowns.

“Herc — talk to your son.”

Herc doesn't reply, and Stacker shelves the subject, until Chuck returns a few hours later.

Chuck is disgruntled and damp, and he grouses about the drizzling weather while Stacker starts preparing pasta for dinner. The complaining over the weather only lasts as long as it takes the water to start boiling, before Chuck starts talking about the areas of London he's started exploring. Chuck keeps trying to get Stacker to join him, insisting that he should just create his own proposal for the future of the PPDC, cut down on all the time he spends on meetings, get him out more often, give him time to take Chuck to a good place for fish and chips.

As Chuck's monologue dies down, and their dinner is ready, Stacker finally says, “Your father was asking about you.”

Chuck stills, then grunts and starts eating. It's a better response than Stacker anticipated.

 

\+ + +

 

Chuck spends the next two days pacing the flat like a caged tiger. His duffel has spent the past two weeks kicked under the couch, but is now packed and ready.

Stacker feels glad Herc shows up at the doorstep, his duffel bag at his feet.

"Stacker," Herc says, looking uncomfortable, and hiding it well enough that anyone who hadn’t Drifted with him (or Drifted secondhand) would notice.

"Herc," Stacker says, making sure he sounds as open as he can. He steps back, and nods his head towards the flat.

Chuck is watching the telly, but his shoulders loosen slightly when Herc walks in.

It doesn't do any good to deny the Drift bond, on any front.

Herc sets his bag down on the chair in the dining room, then takes the close end of the sofa, leaving space between him and Chuck.

“How was the flight?” Chuck asks, though he keeps his eyes on the screen.

“Better than that damn seventeen hour flight,” Herc grumbles.

Chuck grunts.

"Hungry?" Stacker asks.

"I will be." Herc looks around. "Will you be wanting me to sleep in the guest bedroom, or on the couch, or...?"

"You're free to the guest bedroom."

"I'm not driving either of you to the couch."

Stacker doesn't reply, just looks at Chuck.

He cracks, finally. "You're not driving us to the couch." Another moment, and he adds, "We tend to fall asleep watching late night telly."

Herc looks at Stacker, and he nods.

"Alright, then," Herc says. After a beat, he asks, "Pizza alright?"

Stacker passes along the sheaf of pizza menus they have accumulated, and listens as Herc rattles off their entire order without consulting either.

Chuck looks like he wants to argue when Herc states the order for a large meat lover's, extra pepperoni, extra cheese.

"Don't," Stacker says, quietly.

The food comes, and Stacker puts in the next DVD of the film series they're watching, knowing Herc won't object, and that Chuck is secretly invested in what's happening, as low quality as the franchise may be.

Stacker finds himself in the middle of the couch, Chuck taking up his residence on the left side of the couch, Herc lying mirror on the right.

Around nine, Stacker becomes aware of the fact that Herc has fallen asleep, and is snoring lightly.

"Jet lag," Stacker tells Chuck, who is frowning.

"The couch isn't big enough for three people," Chuck says, hesitantly.

"Yes it is," Stacker says, and to prove his point, he puts his feet up, and settles down onto the couch.

Chuck looks suspicious, but says nothing, and continues watching the telly.

The film ends, and Stacker gets up, and starts wrapping the pizza in foil and tossing it into the fridge. He changes into a sleeping shirt and pajama bottoms.

When he comes back, Chuck is leaning against the arm of the couch, looking at Herc warily.

Stacker stands there, and waits.

Chuck lets out a huff, and stands. "I'm going to go sleep in the guest bedroom."

"No you're not," Stacker says, as he settles himself back down, leaving plenty of room for Chuck to sit back down.

Chuck frowns. "I want to sleep in the guest bedroom."

"No you don't," Stacker replies, just as easily. He tips his head back and closes his eyes, his breathing soon evening out.

Chuck doesn't reply, but a minute later the couch dips under his weight.

 

\+ + +

 

Dr. Lightcap enjoys her new office in London, even if she admits she wishes for some more sunshine.

Tests are going well, and although he will be on metharocin for some time to come, Striker was able to shield him from a lot of the radiation, and his health is not looking like it will deteriorate. As she asks him about his well-being, though, she latches onto his diet, and becomes more and more unhappy as he discusses it with her.

He promises he will steer his diet towards healthier foods, and he starts at the restaurant Herc chose for lunch. 

Chuck — who had been sullen and quiet as they browsed their menus — looks completely thrown when Stacker orders a salad.

Herc pulls Stacker into a conversation about his appointment, and the relief in his voice when Stacker replies is almost painful. Herc has spent his the in London attending UN conferences with Stacker, and Stacker's appointment had been the first time the two had been alone together. Stacker gets the distinct impression that it did not go well.

Still, Stacker doesn't let his worry bother him, and he spends lunch talking with Herc, drawing Chuck into the conversation when he can. When Herc tries to draw Chuck into the conversation, Chuck goes quiet.

Stacker leaves to use the restroom, and when he returns, Herc is gone.

Chuck is tense tense and livid. His gaze darts from Herc's empty seat to Stacker to his own plate. "I told him I didn't want him here, and he left," Chuck says, voice tight.

Stacker nods, as he sits back down at his own seat. There are many things to address that worry Stacker — Herc is without keys to Stack's flat, Stacker and Chuck are now facing a long walk back to said flat, the fellow patrons are throwing nervous glances their way. But the only thing Stacker does is ask, "Are you alright?"

"Fine," Chuck bites out, angrily. His gaze flits around. "Can we just get the bill and get out of here?"

 

\+ + +

 

Max is happy to see them home.

Chuck moves his duffel bag and Max's dog bed into the guest bedroom.

Stacker is at the dining room table. He has a worn Japanese paperback novel in front of him. There are translations pencilled in the margins, from when he was first learning the language, and footnotes about cultural references to look into. It's a difficult read for him, and he still turns to it when he needs a distraction.

Herc lets himself in, looking angry and defensive and hurt.

It takes less than a minute for Stacker to hear indistinct yelling. Stacker tunes them out as best as he can. He’s in an unfortunate middle position— spending all those years with Herc watching him raise his hell-raising son, and being inside Chuck’s head. He sees both of their backgrounds, and knows that they have to settle it with each other, that there's no easy solution, that there's nothing he can do but encourage them to talk it through.

But it is not easy tuning them out, and soon Stacker gives up the pretense of trying to.

"Well, what do you want me to do?" Herc yells. "I know you better than you know yourself— I can guess what you want or I can take you at your word, which would you prefer?"

"Know me? You don't know me," Chuck explodes at him. "You don't even know who I am, remember?"

"Chuck — _Chuck_ ," Herc yells.

Chuck storms through the flat.

"Chuck," Stacker says, as Chuck's hand touches down on the doorknob. Chuck stills. "Go back in there and talk it out with your father."

"I don't want to," Chuck snaps.

"Yes you do," Stacker replies easily.

Chuck clenches his jaw. He's wearing a flimsy t-shirt, and through it Stacker sees how rigid he is, how his muscles are coiled and tense. He's in a fight-or-flight mode, and Stacker feels faintly proud that Chuck hasn't gone to either. His breathing is ragged, but his voice comes out quietly as he says, "It's hard."

Stacker nods, though Chuck doesn't see it. He asks, "Harder than taking down a cat-five kaiju?"

Chuck gives him a half-hearted glare. He looks even angrier than he did earlier as he grits out, "I didn't take it down on my own."

Stacker is surprised at the answer, but he feels fiercely proud as well. He glances one his shoulder at Herc, who looks the same. “Was it hard to admit that?”

Chuck continues to glare at him. “Yes.”

“Then you can talk to your father.”

Chuck looks past Stacker. His expression is angry, helpless. He swallows, and looks at the door handle. “Can we go for a walk?”

“Yeah,” Herc says, voice rough. “Yeah.” He clears his throat. “You want to take Max?”

“Yeah. No.” He takes a deep breath, then huffs it out. “No.”

Herc nods. “Alright.”

Chuck quickly opens and slips through the door.

Herc runs a shaking hand over his face. He shoots Stacker a nervous look. "Any advice?"

Stacker stares at him for a long moment. “As a friend," he starts, "to both you and Chuck... I don’t want you to regret the things you don’t say.”

Herc nods, sighs, and lets himself out.

 

\+ + +

 

Herc arrives back first.

Stacker had given up reading and instead tuned into the first movie that came up.

“Is this the terrible movie that was in no way based off you, that thought Tams was secretly in love with you?”

"Wrong Pentecost sibling," Stacker says, with a faint smile.

Herc drops into his normal spot on Stacker's right. They watch the movie for a few quiet minutes. "We're good," Herc says, finally. "Getting there, at least."

"I'm glad."

Herc sighs, and it sounds relieved. "We're getting there," he repeats.

The movie is on a commercial break, Herc is in the restroom, and Stacker is getting a glass of water when the door opens and Chuck enters the flat. His expression is dark, and his complexion ruddy; but when Stacker looks at him, Chuck nods, slightly. Stacker smiles.

Chuck goes to the couch, and settles down in the middle seat.

Max is near immediately in his lap. Stacker takes what had bee Herc's seat.

Herc stands in the entry way for a moment, amazed, but he quickly changes his expression to something neutral, as he moves to the remaining empty seat.

The movie ends, and is followed by its low-budget direct-to-DVD sequel.

By the time the credits roll, Chuck and Herc are asleep, Chuck’s head resting on Herc’s shoulder.

Stacker smiles.

He gets up, and goes to his own bed.

 

\+ + +

 

A sleepless hour later, Stacker gets out of his bed, and returns to the couch.

 

\+ + +

 

Stacker gets up, and starts working on breakfast, recipe courtesy of Dr. Lightcap.

The kitchen has an open view into the dining room and living room past it, and Stacker notices when Herc starts stirring at six in the morning.

Herc goes still as soon as he notices the weight on his chest.

"This isn't going to last," Herc says, quietly.

"It won't if you approach it as such."

Herc looks up from Chuck's head against his shoulder, looks over at Stacker. "I'm concerned that it's not going to last."

"Then tell him that. Tell him that you want it to."

Herc leans back into the couch, and sighs. 

Chuck wakes up five minutes later, and Stacker does his best to keep his gaze on the recipe, trying not to intrude.

"Morning," Herc greets.

"Morning," Chuck replies, gruffly. He shifts, pulls away. "When's breakfast?"

"Another forty minutes," Stacker says, eyes still down on the recipe, even though he can still see the scene.

Chuck grumbles, then lists back, slowly relaxing, muscle by muscle.

Herc wraps his arm around Chuck, pulls him against him fully.

Chuck stays stiff for a few moments, but then sighs and turns to mash his nose into Herc's shoulder. His mouth moves, and Herc's jaw clenches, but he nods. "I know. I'm sorry."

"'m sorry, too."

Stacker turns away, lets them have this. For all that Stacker has Drifted with Chuck, for all the years Stacker has shared with Herc, this is theirs. Stacker is fiercely glad they're heading in the right direction, but this is a part of their life where he doesn't belong.

 

\+ + +

 

The next day, Chuck does his laundry, and spends the entire time watching the washing machine with a startling, almost predatory, intent. Watching, and waiting, and pacing.

Herc is at a small interview for an entertainment channel, while Stacker has spent his morning drafting an outline for what will be the final proposal for the PPDC. He addresses all the subjects that need to be addressed, and he sends a draft to Tendo, to get his feedback as well.

By now, Stacker recognizes the shuffle of Chuck's socked feet, and he asks, "Yes, Chuck?" when Chuck doesn't launch into his normal diatribe.

"Dad's bought a house back down in Sydney. It's a small place, don't know why he got it, but." He hesitates, then sits down across from Stacker. "He's asking me if I want to move back in with him. He wants me to."

"Do you want to?" Stacker asks, setting his pen down.

Chuck leans against the doorframe. His gaze is sharp, assessing, and he asks, "Do you want me to stay?"

Stacker considers it. He has enjoyed Chuck's prolonged stay, the way the relationship has finally become easy. When Drifting with somebody, there's so much that doesn't need talking about, and after Tamsin, he did not think he would Drift again. He has enjoyed his time with Chuck, but that gaping white noise that crops up after Drifting has ebbed back down.

There is no easy way to tell Chuck no, though.

Or perhaps there is, and it's time for Stacker to trust him with that. "No," he says. "I have enjoyed the past few weeks, but I have to finish my proposal for the future of the PPDC."

Chuck stares at him, a smug smile growing on his face. "Your own proposal?"

"The Pan-Pacific will require continued monitoring, and I will be stopping by Sydney with some regularly, I think. And I think you would do best moving to Sydney."

"I'm not sure I want to move in with him," Chuck admits. "I mean, it's not — we're good, and everything, or at least getting there, you don't need to look so concerned. Just after growing up in Shatterdomes, and always sharing a bunk, I think it would be nice to have a place of my own. Get somewhere a few minutes away from the old man, but get my own place."

"The quiet will drive you crazy," Stacker tells him.

"It didn't drive you crazy."

"Yes it did."

Chuck looks surprised. "And you still want me to go?" he asks, but it's lacking the baiting tone the words may have otherwise carried.

"I don't want you to go," Stacker clarifies. "But I do think you want to. And I'm proud that you're moving to make amends with your father. Besides, as I said, I do plan on visiting Sydney, and keeping in touch."

Chuck looks pleased.

"When will you two be heading back to Sydney?" he asks, as he picks his stylus up.

"Don't know. Flying back there is still a hassle, even with restrictions being lifted, but it would probably be within the week." After a pause he asks, "So, you're finally writing up your own proposal, instead of being jerked around by all the UN representatives?"

"Not how I would have phrased it."

"I'm just curious, where did you get the idea?"

Stacker fixes him with a glare. "Is there anything else I can help you with, Chuck?" he asks, levelly.

Chuck just smirks. "No, but perhaps there might be something I could help you with?"

The buzzer goes off, and Stacker waves him off. "Go finish your laundry, Chuck."

Chuck is laughing as he leaves.

 

\+ + +

 

They catch a late morning flight.

"The one bloody day it's sunny is the day we're leaving," Chuck grumbles, as he pulls his duffel from the boot of the cab.

"It has been sunny plenty times before, you just never noticed," Stacker tells him.

Herc snorts, then looks mildly apologetic when Chuck turns and glares at him.

Stacker steps in, and hugs Chuck. “Take care of yourself.”

Chuck looks surprised, before he gives Stacker a bright, sunny grin. “Yeah," he says, dropping his gaze and looking around. "You too.”

He claps Herc on the shoulder.

 Herc pulls him into a half-hug. “Thank you.”

Stacker smiles. "It was my pleasure, Herc." He looks down at Max, then between Chuck and Herc. “I’ll be seeing you two around.”


End file.
